The Smallest Things
by Scout73
Summary: Fluffy modern one-shot. Spot and Race have drifted apart...can anything bring them back together? not slash (for once)


A/N: yay! I believe I finished this in record time! claps I'm sorry I haven't written anything in a while, I've been bogged down with school and drama and going away on vacation and laziness…

This is a modern fic…no slash this time smiles

For all the readers of Scout's Honor…yeah it's not coming along. I'm trying hard…I really am! I'm just…stuck.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except Scout. Flare belongs to Repeats, and everyone else belongs to…yeah I'm sure you've heard this drill before. "All Apologies" belongs to Nirvana.

Onto le story!

"Is this Hayden Conlon?" the voice on the other end of Spot's cell phone asked in the usual 'try to stay calm' manner.

"Uh yeah. Who is this?" Spot asked, recognizing the tone of voice. They had called like this just earlier this year. He knew that it was the hospital calling. They called when his mother got into that car accident.

"This Manhattan Hospital. Do you know an Anthony Higgins? He said to contact you." Spot's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't talked to Racetrack in almost a year now. Not since…well, right after his mother had died. In retrospect, he could have used a best friend, but at that time, he couldn't deal with one. After Race had left him, he had become a loner. An outcast. Why was Race trying to contact him now?

"Yes I know him. What's wrong?" Spot asked.

"He was injured in a car accident. He asked for you to come right away. Please hurry." Spot swallowed hard and snapped his cell phone shut. He hopped into his old, rusty, hand-me-down Ford and tried to maneuver into the crowded street. No luck. Spot sat his in car, mentally drawing a map. Only three blocks to the hospital. If he ran, he could get there just as fast, maybe faster, than if he drove. So he left his car in the same bad parallel parking job that it was in before, and started to run down the street. _How bad is Race hurt? _Was the only thing running through his mind. He remembered how bad his mom was hurt. She wasn't even recognizable. He hoped that he could still see Race's face. At least tell it was him. _dear God, please don't let him be as mangled as her. _Images of his mother's bloody, broken face flashed through his field of vision. He had to snap out of it. He had to get to Race. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring how his chest hurt. _I knew all those cigarettes were bad for me._ _I should have listened to Race. _He kept running until he saw the neon-red sign for Manhattan Hospital. Spot swiftly ducked in the door and hurried to the front desk.

"Is…Ra-I mean…Anthony…Higgins…here?" he gasped out. The woman behind the counter looked him over through her large, chunky glasses.

"And who might _you _be?" she asked in a very prick manner. Spot could understand why she thought he was just some random kid off the street, maybe playing a prank. He was wearing a torn gray t-shirt, now wet with sweat around the collar. His baggy blue jeans had holes in them, and he probably smelled like cigarette smoke. His face was dripping with sweat and his hair was greasy.

"I'm Hayden Conlon. Someone just called me and said Anthony wanted to see me. I'm his…uh…best friend." _well, used to be. _he added to himself. That wasn't important though. What was important, was that he got in. He had to do it.

"okay. Go sit in the waiting room and a nurse will take you back shortly." she pointed a bony finger towards a stark-white room with stark-white chairs and stark-white lights. Spot dragged his feet to the room, hoping it would make the nurse come get him faster. It didn't. Spot would take out his cell phone and check the time every couple of minutes. Minutes that seemed to never pass. About twenty minutes after Spot had sat down in what he now called the White Room, about seven others joined him. Seven others that he knew. Knew from when he was still friends with people. They were his friends. His old friends. Jack Kelly, Kid Blink Bryant, Mush Meyers, Snitch Knoxx, Dave Jacobs, and two girls, Scout Harris and Flare McCoy. Scout was Snitch's girlfriend, and Flare was Race's. Jack saw Spot first and stopped in his tracks, forcing Dave to slam into his back.

"Hey what was that for? Why did you stop? Did you do that on purpose?" Dave lectured. Good old Davey. Then he realized Spot and it clicked.

"Oh." he muttered as he took a seat next to Jack on the opposite side of the White Room. It was an awkward five minutes until Scout finally said something. Spot didn't really know Scout very well, since she just started dating Snitch a couple of days before they had all stopped being friends with Spot.

"Uh…Hey Spot. Are you here for Race?" she asked awkwardly. Spot's head snapped up, realizing he was the only Spot in the room.

"Um…yeah I am." he fidgeted nervously with one of the holes in his jeans.

"Oh. I didn't know you were still friends with him" she said, trying to sound sympathetic.

"Yeah well, me neither." she looked confused. Her green eyes looked tired and her hair was frizzy and disorderly. Much how he remembered her. That was the end of the conversing. They sat there, in the glowing white room for another twenty minutes. Spot could hear Flare trying to hold back her tears. He knew Flare better than Scout, since she had been in the group longer than Scout. Finally a nurse wearing a clean, pressed, white gown.

"For anyone who is here to see Anthony Higgins, please follow me." everyone stood up and followed her down the hall. She led them to another white room, where a small, battered figure lay in the white bed. Spot moved over to the foot of the bed, allowing Flare to talk to her boyfriend first. Spot wasn't even listening to her, all he knew was that she was crying and talking to him. He was responding a little. Spot couldn't meet Race's eyes. He just sat down on another white chair at the foot of the bed and waited. He waited, until Jack realized that Spot was there to talk to Race too. He whispered in Flare's ear and led her, along with the other five, out of the room. Now Spot and Race were left alone. Spot stayed seated.

"Spot. Come here." Race whispered hoarsely. Spot got to his feet and walked over to the head of the bed. For the first time, he had a true chance to look at Race. His lip was bleeding, there was a gash above his eye, and he was black and blue all over. He still looked better than Spot's mom had though.

"Race, why did you call me here?" Spot asked. He didn't mean to sound so cold, but it was the only way he could phrase it.

"Because. When I got into that accident, ya know who I was thinking about? I was thinking about you. As soon as that truck hit me, I remember thinking to myself, 'If I live through this, I want to make up with Spot'" he smiled a pained, half-smile. Spot felt weird. He didn't know why Race had thought this, but he just had a weird feeling about it. He just stood there, looking puzzled. Race picked up on this and laughed slightly.

"Remember our favorite song? All Apologies? Well, it was playing on the radio. It got me thinking, and its dangerous when Nirvana makes me think. I miss you Spot. Do you think we could ever be friends again? Ya know, the smallest things can drive a person crazy. Not being friends with you was one of those things." his eyes looked hopeful. Spot took into consideration all the years they had spent together. How much fun they had, and how they said they were blood brothers. How could something ever tear them apart? Well, something had. Now was their chance to make things better.

Spot looked into Race's chocolate eyes, and smirked.

"Sure we can." Spot turned and walked out of the hospital room, allowing Flare and the rest back in. before he could heave though, Race called his name. Spot turned around, waiting.

"I told you to stop smoking." Race said, winking.

A/N: ah the fluffiness of it all! don't you just love fluff? I know I do! Please R&R!! Now! GO!!

!Scout!


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